Still Only Halfway There
by BlueBiirdy
Summary: Falling down a stairwell with Heather Morris was not on her list of things to do, but that didn't stop her from giving it a red hot go. HeYa. One shot.


**Title -** Still Only Halfway There

 **Summary -** Falling down a stairwell with Heather Morris was not on her list of things to do, but that didn't stop Naya from giving it a red hot go.

 **Disclaimer -** Not mine, I only write it.

 **A/N:** Years later I return with a Heya one shot. Was meant to be a New Years piece however that dead line is long gone, so I'm posting it six months late. It was weird writing again, in a fun way. Enjoy!

 **-ooo-**

Still Only Halfway There

The beer is cold and the wine, Naya decides with a quick sip from her glass, is bitter. A good, burn your stomach warm, take away the crazy thoughts, bitter.

She actually has two drinks with her. Her wine glass, filled upon her request, right to the brim with ruby red liquor - and a pint of beer she tried to turn down before Dianna insisted with persistent hands and soft words.

The chatter of voices over voices and music thumping across the rooftop is deliciously loud. Naya is sure the city below can hear it all. Hear the clicking of glasses being tipped together to ring in the new year. Or the laughs of producers, actors, writers, artists, performers and musicians to name a few - all mingling. All speaking, it seems, at once.

Naya sits on one of the many wicker chairs brought up to the rooftop. It's blinking beneath her. Glowing white on and off as fairy lights tangle around the legs and back rest of the seat. She sips her wine slowly and feels surprisingly cheerful by the little, blinking lights, and Dianna swoops into her view.

"I just ran into Zach!" She says, and it's said so earnestly and filled with such excitement, that Naya feels suddenly guilty for having no clue who 'Zach' is.

"That's great." Naya returns, she takes a large sip to hide her puzzlement.

But Dianna sees through her instantly and sits on a free chair, her shoes, heeled and strapped, look fluorescent under the copious amounts of fairy lights and Naya checks her own.

They're black. High. Hard to walk in but expensive. A fashion statement more then anything else, and to Naya's disappointment unaffected by the lights.

Dianna grunts. Or clicks her tongue to gain Naya's attention. "Zach!" She says with a nod. Like that will jog Naya's memory.

Naya smiles, strained, swallowing more wine. "Great." She manages and it matches Dianna's earlier excitement. Somehow. It's convincing though.

Naya has become less and less capable of remembering names as the year has progressed. She's not proud of this. She often comes across as though she's disinterested or not paying attention, and the media likes to throw around that she's self centred. A drama queen. Diva. Really she's just super tired and forgetful but that doesn't make for a juicy read, does it.

Dianna scoffs lighthearted and leans close to Naya. "You don't know who I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue." Naya admits. As an afterthought she adds, "have I met him?"

Now Dianna looks pitying or shocked or a mix of the two. Either way Naya doesn't like the vibe she's getting and she quickly tries to save face with a smile. It's her way of apologising even if Dianna misses it in favour of waving someone over.

"I get completely that you're tired, Naya. But act like you're not having a memory lapse for two seconds alright?" Just as Dianna says this someone taps Naya's shoulder in a pitter-pat of excited energy.

The male figure stands to her peripheral vision and when she turns to look she's engulfed in a quick, but tight and decidedly personal hug, the smell of cologne and beer is strong and Naya is close to pulling away when she's released and a huge smile is sent her way.

"I love your dress." Are the first words sent her way by the slender man, followed by, "you've changed." And suddenly the name and face connect.

Zach. Zach Woodlee. Dance choreographer!

Naya feels sheepish for forgetting him. Even if momentarily. She stutters over a 'hey' and pulls him in for another hug. He's always been the kind of guy she feels comfortable around. His appearance reminds her of Glee and a warm, yet slightly unsettled feeling hits her stomach at the rush of memories.

She feels so different from that first year on the TV show, so when Zach looks her over with a raised eyebrow, Naya flashes her expensive watch almost mockingly of herself.

"So has my bank account." She exclaims.

Zach laughs loudly. "Rich bitch." He says and his joke is warm and something Naya genuinely finds herself laughing over.

Dianna takes the moment of brief laughter to hold her glass of champagne high in a toast. In true Dianna style she elegantly dips her head for Naya and Zach to follow suit. It makes Naya miss working along side her.

"To the New Year and old friends." Dianna declares and Zach beams.

Three glasses chink together amongst the chatter and tumble of music and dancing bodies. Naya feels young again, or younger, she's not exactly old as is. Although some days she feels like she's pushing forty odd. The industry does that though. Grinds you down until you're nothing but skin and bone, ashes or something poetic like that.

Naya grimaces, suddenly aware of her train of thought. Dianna catches it and sympathetically frowns. "Refill?" She offers, she prepares to stand but Naya stops her.

"I'll get it, champagne right?"

"The more bubbles the better." Dianna smiles.

Naya nods, she offers Zach a refill but he's content with his beer and to pick it's sticky label while he watches with enthusiasm, the dancing party goers. She makes a mental note to catch up properly with him when she returns with fresh drinks. To pick his brain about what he's done while she's been fronting media and recording songs.

It takes a lifetime to squeeze her way through the crowded rooftop. She's sure the amount of people is a hazard, she's also sure she recognises none of them. Although that is nothing new to her by now. Parties weren't intimate and filled with familiar faces anymore, rather they were large crowds of celebrities and mixes of talents and models. A blur. A forgettable chaos really.

Naya slips passed a sweaty guy and he spins to grab her hips tight.

"Hey baby, dance with me for a bit." He slurs every word and pulls Naya against him forcefully.

She's quick to rip his hands away, even quicker to push him back a step. But he advances and takes hold of her waist in a sleazy, drunk, and fumbling dance move.

He's intimidating only in the sense that he is so blind to her protests and Naya struggles to steady her balance when he pulls her closer. Her shoes, fashion statement they might be, let her down and she stumbles against his chest. He laughs in her ear and attempts to hold her tighter.

Naya grunts. "Let go, I don't want to dance." She sounds firm but the guy just laughs again.

"Sure you do." He breathes out.

Naya is about to protest once more and even starts to speak when an open palm pushes strongly against the mans chest, cutting Naya off and effectively freeing her from the guys grasp as he stumbles back and into other dancers.

He's shocked but not as shocked as Naya when a flash of blonde hair catches her eye, and a grinning, slightly concerned Heather steps between her and Mr hands on.

"Hey stranger." Heather says.

Naya doesn't immediately answer. Heather looks older but in the good way. Almost as though she has spent the last year laughing, building her features into a striking image that has Naya's eyes flicking to every part of Heather's face, then down to her body.

She's dressed casual. Light jeans and a blue top. Her khaki jacket fits her figure well and Naya remembers it from years ago. Nothing fancy, nothing like Naya who is over the top in glamour, and wearing fake eyelashes that she's afraid will fall off and into someone's drink.

Naya suddenly feels stupid for the expensive dress and watch and jewellery she's wearing, not ashamed, that would be ridiculous. Nice things are nice after all. But she's suddenly envious of Heather's natural confidence and also really attracted to it.

Heather waits, smiling. Patient but sneaking glances to the drunk guy to make sure he's moved on. Naya shakes her head and a laugh, half nervous, half insanely comfortable escapes her throat. Her chest swells and she smiles back.

"Hey you." Is the first words she says.

* * *

 **-ooo-**

The air is cold and Naya is positive there is a layer of frost settling on the rooftop as her heels keep slipping every time she takes a step.

Heather is weaving through the crowd like a pro. Dodging sweaty men and women with red limbs from the cold air, dancing in nothing but a slip of clothing.

The music is louder the closer they get to a table covered in bottles of alcohol and shot glasses filled with different coloured liquor. Sparklers cover the ground, burnt and forgotten, unlike newly lit ones that burn quickly and get shoved in Naya face by excited party goers.

She smiles and waves them away, loses Heather for a brief second, and then feels a warm hand grabbing her own.

"Let's dodge, I can't hear myself think." Heather says. She tugs Naya between two hugging men and pulls her towards the table. Naya sees the next thing happening before it actually does, so when Heather swipes a bottle of vodka from multiple others, she laughs loudly.

Heather hears her and turns with a grin. "You drink vodka, yeah? Or is that too middle class for you now?" She's joking and her tone is lighthearted, and honestly Naya barely hears her over the thump of the crowd suddenly jumping in unison to the bass, so she nods dumbly.

"Vodkas good." Naya is sure Dianna is still waiting for her drink eagerly. But with Heathers hand holding tight she ditches the worry, makes a mental note to apologise to her friend later, and blindly allows Heather to direct her into the stairwell of the building.

The sound of music and voices become muffled the second the door shuts behind them. It leaves Naya's ears ringing and her body humming. The stairwell is freezing, painted cement stairs mock Naya as she wobbles her way down them, and the metal rail freezes her palm every time she grabs it for support.

Heather slows, laughs at Naya's struggle, and then in a show of shivery only Heather could posses she stops dead in her tracks - bends down while still holding Naya's hand, places the vodka on the stair - and taps two fingers against Naya's ankle.

Naya almost falls straight over Heather and her laugh is one of pure fear. She grabs Heather's shoulder with her free hand.

"What are you doing?" She asks and her voice comes out high, said through a nervous giggle Naya hasn't done in ages. She steadies her body, tenses her legs so that she doesn't fall and squash Heather, and pulls her hand from Heather's shoulder quickly. "Sorry." She whispers.

Heather grins and taps Naya's ankle again. "Take these off." She instructs.

Naya wants to laugh at the idea of doing that. Instead she finds the laugh becoming stuck in her chest, so she breathes in deeply and grimaces in place. "Really?"

With a nod Heather licks her lips. "Do you want to break your ankle?" She asks the question so seriously Naya almost feels like she's being chastised.

With a swallow so dry her throat has to work around it, Naya shifts her feet. "I'm fine-" she goes to say but Heather cuts her off with a light laugh. It's all air and no sound.

"You're waddling like a duck, Naya." The statement is direct and so honest that Naya feels a genuine wave of laughter hit her.

Her cheeks heat up when Heather smiles.

"Excuse me?" Naya says with a hurried laugh. She feigns shock so well she's worried Heather will think she's serious but Heather takes the words as they're meant to be and stands easily.

"You're excused." She sing songs. Clearly enjoying Naya's attempt at reciprocating the banter.

Naya's cheeks heat up more and she is glad she's wearing a ton of makeup tonight or she would be beet red by now. Despite the stairwell being cold, Naya's palms are clammy and her skin prickles with heat.

There's a strange sensation of being comfortable in Heather's company and simultaneously nervous and the push and pull of those two feelings makes Naya anxious. Maybe it's also the confinement of the stairwell, the yahooing from the rooftop and the fact that Naya just disappeared from Dianna and Zach without an explanation.

Maybe it's because Heather is still holding Naya's hand and it reminds Naya, strangely, of her first year on the glee set. Of new friendships and new experiences and nights spent up late with wine or beer or shots of vodka. With Heather teaching her dance moves or effortlessly tumbling into a cartwheel at the weirdest times, and Naya drinking so much coffee she gets the shakes. Maybe it's because Naya feels like so much has changed.

Yet Heather, standing in front of Naya with that same old grin, is still incredibly so unchanged that Naya almost feels like she's stepped back in time.

And it's a weird feeling. So weird in fact Naya is speechless and Heather, put out by the silence, lets go of Naya's hand and starts to ramble.

"Apparently Zach got invited to this party a few weeks ago, but the guy he was going to bring as a date couldn't make it, so I tagged along as his plus one." She smiles and waves her hand through the air. "Actually that's a lie. He forced me to come and then ditched me as soon as we got here, something about dancing and sparklers and free beer."

The rambling works to lull Naya into a calm sort of emotional state and she smiles. "Zach could never resist free beer if I remember correctly."

Heather shakes her head. Not in disagreement, just in mirth. "He always struck me as a gin -"

"- and tonic kind of guy?" Naya finishes with a raise of her eyebrows. Heather raises her own to match with a nod and Naya chuckles.

"Oh shoot, the vodka." Realising just now about the forgotten vodka bottle, Heather swoops down to retrieve it and the conversation falls dead, although comfortable, before Heather is standing again and raising the now open bottle to her lips.

Her mouth makes a popping sound once she has taken a swig and lowered the bottle and then she shakes her head. "Gross. I should have grabbed a mixer. Try it, it's strong."

She hands the bottle out to Naya and wiggles it encouragingly.

Taking the offered beverage slowly, Naya tips the bottle up and a little too confidently takes a large gulp, she swallows audibly and the liquor burns a trail right to her stomach. It's bitter and strong and breathtakingly a surprise that when Naya goes to talk her voice comes out in a rasp.

"Wow." Is all she manages and Heather is breathing out a laugh and reaching for the bottle.

"Try sculling that." She says.

Naya scrunches her nose up and swallows to soothe her throat. "Impossible."

Laughing in advance at her next words, Heather kicks the toe of her sneaker to Naya's heels. "The only thing impossible is you walking in those shoes."

"They do make my feet hurt." Naya admits. "But look at them." She rolls her ankle so that the heels capture Heather's attention.

"They look expensive." Heather states.

Naya nods. "They are."

"Price tag?"

"You don't want to know trust me."

Heather bumps Naya's heel with her sneaker again. "Try me." She persists.

"Take a guess." Naya instructs. She chuckles when Heather looks thoughtful.

"Are we talking double digits?" Heather edges, a slow drawl to her words.

Naya shakes her head. "No. We're not talking double digits."

Sucking her lips into her mouth, then popping them loudly, Heather looks serious. "Triple digits?" She whispers like she's telling a secret and Naya nods slowly. "Dead set serious?" Heather asks.

Naya feels a blush creep it's way up her neck and she's not sure if it's out of embarrassment or pride. She swallows away the tightness in her chest and shifts her foot until she's hitting Heather's own, mimicking Heather's action.

"How much did yours cost?" She's joking and Heather plays along, rolling her ankle like Naya had done.

"Double digits. Lower end of the scale."

Naya raises one eyebrow. "Fancy." She rasps with a low chuckle.

"Aren't I?." Heather laughs. It's quick and girly and so unlike Heather's normal laugh Naya swears there's something more to the laugh then just humour. Something close to nervous energy, something at a stretch Naya would relate to her own emotions, sweaty palms and pounding heart.

She wants to ask Heather how she's been. Ask a thousand different questions at once but the words don't come out. They sit in Naya's throat tightly, sit in her chest like all the butterflies she felt earlier when Heather had grabbed her hand has suddenly landed, stopped flying to fill her lungs instead. It makes breathing hard. Hell, it makes talking hard.

Heather's eyes are watching her, Heather's lips are curling into that familiar smirk. Heather's shoes are scuffing the step and Naya wants to ditch the heels and lead Heather somewhere warm and quiet. Some place where the words will come out and un-lodge from Naya's throat and lungs.

A set trailer would be good, Naya thinks, and then she's smirking so widely that Heather quirks an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"What?" Heather questions with a breathy chuckle.

Naya shakes her head gently and then without warning bends down to start taking her heels off. Her nails, manicured and glossed, cause indents on the black straps as she slides them down her ankles and off her feet.

They look ridiculously high now that she's out of them and Naya is surprised when she's suddenly shorter then Heather.

"The stairs are freezing!" Naya tells the second her bare feet touch the cement. The cold ground coupled with the wine and sip of vodka makes Naya feel young. For a moment she isn't worried about the media or her work or even social status and it feels strange. Familiar, but so blurry that Naya isn't sure when she last felt young. Last felt her age really.

Heather's smile is sweet. It's soft and bright and something close to amused.

It makes Naya want to stand up straight and smooth her dress down. But mainly it makes her want to relax and drink vodka and joke around.

She's positive her next idea is a crazy one. But Naya has never been one to think long enough on her own ideas to actually stop them becoming reality.

She takes in a deep breath, straightens her back, and holds her shoes in one hand.

"Race you." She deadpans.

Heather takes a moment to register the words. She looks almost worried by the words. Or excited. Or maybe shocked Naya spoke them. But once she takes a moment to simply stare she moves straight into action.

Naya's slow on the uptake, even though the impromptu race had been her idea, and she watches Heather bolt from next to her down a few stairs before her body and mind get with the program and jerk into action.

Heather lets out a sound akin to a shout, that sounds something like 'YOLO' and a little like, 'You're it'. Naya's not sure if they are having a race or a chase, but it doesn't matter, her legs are moving, bare feet and numb toes smacking against the cold concrete, and her breath rips from her lungs in heavy exhales.

Her shoes are held tight in her hand and her excitement is bubbling over, like some unwatched pot of boiling water. She's a mess of nervous energy, and if Heather's breathless chuckles are anything to go by, so is she.

" _Oh my god_." Naya whispers to herself.

The wine sits warmly in her stomach.

The vodka numbs her mind.

And Heather's familiar laugh sets her skin burning red. Her cheeks feel hot and her pulse races. Naya's positive she is tipsy right now. Or perhaps full blown drunk, drunk on recklessness and excitement and a heady combination of wine and _Heather._

Heather's in front most of the way down the stairwell, her sensible shoes making it easy for her to run down the steps, while even in bare feet, Naya is having trouble keeping up. Heather has always been the more athletic one of the two of them, tonight is no different.

It's when Heather stumbles that Naya takes the lead, only to forfeit it in favour of steadying Heather a second later.

It's a tangled kind of steadying that Naya does, she's standing with her heels hanging off the edge of a step, her toes digging into the concrete and her hands gripping Heather's bicep.

She's not sure who's doing the saving and who's doing the stumbling, because right now it feels like she's about to fall. Heather's strong hand comes out of nowhere and grips her wrist, they are tangled together, in the dimly lit, shadowed stairwell, clinging to one another and both trying to save and not stumble at the same time.

It's so absurdly random that Naya bursts out laughing in Heather's face, not caring if she's hovering on the edge of tumbling down the rest of the stairs, she's inexplicably happy.

"You good?" Heather breathes.

Naya goes to shrug, which is stupid because it makes her wobble, and then she is tensing every muscle in her body as she topples further into a falling motion.

"No-" She says but it's too late.

Heather's knee hits the stairs with a painful crack and the momentum of her body suddenly falling drags Naya forward. The vodka bottle somehow stays unbroken even when Heather drops it in favour of clinging to the wall and Naya's wrist simutaneously, and Naya's heels tumble down the stairwell just like they start too.

The descent is a fast one, although fervent and painful. Heather ends up on her knees, awkwardly kneeling on a step. While Naya rests on her backside, back against the wall and heels a few steps down.

She goes to ask if Heather is ok. However the words come out as a groan and garbled mess, she probably did a really spot on chewbacca impression though, so points for that.

Heather's moving but the action looks slow, or at least fuzzy. Naya's eyes blur and she shuts them quickly.

She feels a thumping, hammering kind of feeling in the back of her skull, and the instant feeling of bile rising up her throat. Then she is opening her eyes. Naya blinks, licks her lips for something to do, and then feels soft, gentle hands touch her temples, cupping her head in warm palms.

"Whoa, you ok, Naya?" Heather's voice is faraway but jolts loud through her ears and echoes off the walls of the stairwell.

Naya nods, but that hurts, so she settles for staring.

"I slipped." Heather tries to tell her. Naya can barely focus but even though her head is spinning, she still sees Heather's worried frown. "That was totally my fault. Are you ok? Did you hit your head?"

Naya would talk but she's not about to mimic chewbacca a second time so she licks her lips and swallows.

Soft fingertips touch Naya's temple all the way down to her jawline, and then Heather is lifting Naya's head slowly, gazing back and forth between Naya's eyes.

"You hit your head." Heather decides when Naya keeps staring. She grabs Naya's shoulders in a gentle squeeze and sucks her lips into her mouth in thought.

Naya chuckles and it's raspy. "I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy." She tries to appease, silently glad she sounds normal.

It doesn't work and Heather looks suddenly serious. "Hospital?" She asks.

Naya chuckles again. She's more embarrassed then hurt. "Don't be stupid, I'm seriously fine."

Fine that is until she goes to stand and then everything goes black for two seconds, and Naya swears she loses all sense of time, because Heather is now standing up and retrieving Naya's shoes in a rush of contained emotion.

"Hospital?" Heather asks, again. Her eyebrows rise in question and with worry and she grabs for Naya's elbow.

Naya finds herself humming awkwardly. "Hospital." She agrees.

* * *

 **-ooo-**

"Well you didn't break your ankle." Heather says as she sits down on the hard waiting room chair. It creaks and she looks up sharply to Naya. "That was the chair." She defends.

Naya is too busy looking through her handbag for her phone to reply, so she grunts her response to let Heather know she heard her, even if the words weren't clear. From her peripheral vision she sees Heather bounce her knee in a jittery rhythm, before breathing out.

"It's busy in here." Heather muses, she pops her lips and then her face falls. "Is that blood?"

Naya immediately looks up from her bag, searching Heather's features before following her line of sight to a middle aged man, his head is caked in dried blood. It covers his hands and jacket and he laughs straight from his stomach, a booming, loud chuckle when another guy – quite likely his mate – says something in his ear.

Naya looks away and down to Heather's bouncing knee. "Makes my concussion seem trivial."

Heather breathes a puff of air out quickly. "Little bit."

"Thanks for driving me by the way." Naya mumbles. She feels sheepish for the drama. Falling down a stairwell with Heather Morris was not on Naya's list of things to do, but that didn't stop her from giving it a red hot go. Her slight concussion was proof enough of that.

Heather smiles. "All good. I'm just glad you're alright."

Heather is sincere when she talk and it takes Naya by surprise.

The kind of surprise that isn't a surprise at all, but more like a gentle tap, a firm hand to her back to remind her that people like Heather are out there.

A strange tightness fills Naya's stomach and she finds herself looking at Heather. Soft, blue eyes catch her attention first and Naya watches as Heather looks around the waiting room slowly. Blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun now, and Naya follows a loose tendril down Heather's neck and pass her shoulder, her eyes drop to Heather's knee once more. The bouncing is faster now. Not done in agitation or impatience, but more so an act of exhaustion. Done purely to stay awake on Heather's part and Naya thinks, without any concious thought.

She smiles at the sight and looks away quickly when Heather glances to her.

"It's getting late." Heather muses.

Pretending to search for her phone, Naya hums. "Not quite midnight." She says.

"How long until the New Year?" Heather asks, she leans closer and grabs Naya's wrist in a gentle hold, before twisting Naya's arm so her watches face is in view. "Twenty minutes." She mumbles, answering her own question.

Heather's touch is soft and light and Naya swallows dryly.

Tapping her fingernail against Naya's watch, Heather grins. "Expensive."

"It was a gift." To herself that is but Naya feels suddenly shy about admitting that so she settles for a white lie.

Heather grins widely, the sort of grin Naya remembers used to make her stomach do flips, and apparently nothing has changed. She covers her abdomen with her hands to settle the feeling and reluctantly moves from Heather's touch.

"I bet this isn't how you thought you'd spend your New Year, huh?" Heather says, still grinning.

Naya smiles back and shakes her head slowly. "Not exactly. But I'm too dizzy to complain." She taps the side of her head with her finger and Heather's eyes drop from Naya's own down to her jaw, and then back up quickly.

"I shouldn't have started running -" Heather starts to say but Naya predicts the sentence and talks over her.

"I'm the one who challenged you to the race." She states with a casual shrug.

Heather changes her approach. "I fell first and you totally had to hold me up -"

"It's fine -"

"- you hit your head, Naya -"

"- it didn't hurt -"

"You have a concussion." Heather proclaims, concerned.

Naya swallows. "Just a little one." She tries to reason. "Besides you landed on your knee, I heard it crack."

Heather chuckles, soft and quiet so only Naya can hear. "I walked it off, it's cool."

"You hobbled through the ER doors." Naya tells with something close to amusement and mild concern.

Waving her hand through the air, Heather swallows. It's visible and Naya's eyes fall to the flutter of Heather's throat before finding her lips, then her eyes in a nervous gaze.

If Heather notices Naya's staring she ignores it easily. Bouncing her knee faster she sits forward and looks around.

"I gotta pee." She proclaims, comfortably loud at that. "I'll be right back, so don't fall asleep, I heard that's bad when you have a concussion." The words come out quickly and Heather's lips catch Naya's attention repeatedly as she talks. She stands in one fluid motion, bends closer to Naya, and with a playful grin pats the seat she was just in. "Save my seat." She says.

Naya places her bag on it as proof she will. "I've got you covered." She jokes back.

"Don't forget to text Dianna and let her know where you are." Heather says, she's already walking past the bleeding man when she adds. "And get Dianna to let Zach know he'll have to find a ride home, because I'm with you."

 _Because I'm with you_. Naya rubs a hand over her abdomen and rolls her head back at the little twinge those words cause. She breathes out to stop the dizzy sensation in her head and shuts her eyes. Blindly reaching for her bag and in turn her phone, Naya fumbles for the device.

She decides to call Dianna instead, opting to talk as the easier option over texting with a dizzying concussion.

Ten minutes later and one fully filled in Dianna, drunk hollering from Zach, and endless apologising from Naya – the phone call is ended.

Naya's not sure if she should be concerned that Heather hasn't come back from the bathroom or not. It seems stupid to go in there after her. What if Heather is just redoing her hair or something simple like that?

Naya's not about to go storming in there looking for the blonde. She's not.

Flinging her bag over her shoulder, Naya makes a beeline for the ladies room. Resolve broken and will power null and void.

* * *

 **-ooo-**

The bathroom door creeks as Naya enters and immediately her eyes have to adjust to the onslaught of fluorescent light. It's a hazy entrance and her concussion adds a subtle element of nausea to the moment that makes Naya hold a hand to her temple, she brushes shoulders with a woman exiting, and in trying to overcompensate for the little nudge turns too fast for her head to handle.

The woman leaves without noticing Naya's state and the door bumps shut just as Naya grabs the wall for support. The bathroom is empty and Naya allows herself to breathe out, her chest sinks and she drops her head into her palms, the silence is welcomed.

" _God_." Naya whispers. It's not even a proper breath that carries the word. Just a soft exhale.

Although a second later there's a loud bang, like someone hitting a sheet of metal, and then Heather's voice is very loudly filling the small space.

"Naya? Is that you?"

Looking up, Naya stares at the stalls incredulously. "Heather?" She calls, softly.

Another bang rings out and Naya realises it's the door of the middle stall being hit.

Heather speaks up. "Oh, thank god I was starting to think I'd be in here all night." Her voice is muffled from being inside the cubicle, however it travels loudly because of the tiles and metal and smeared mirrors, and Naya cringes.

"What are you talking about?" Naya asks, confused and in all honesty a bit worried.

There's another sound from the stall, a rattling Naya thinks, and then Heather is breathing out a groan.

"I'm stuck!" Heather admits.

"Stuck?" Naya grunts a laugh and it sounds like she just held in a cough. She clears her throat and walks warily closer to the stall. "Twist the lock." She instructs, nonchalantly.

The rattling starts up again. "I am. It's stuck. It's like wedged or something, Naya."

The humour of the situation tickles Naya and she turns away from the stall to suppress a smile. Not that Heather could see her anyway.

The rattling continues and then Heather is groaning. "I've been in here this whole time!" She tells.

Naya swallows a laugh and shakes her head, coming right up to the door of the stall she talks clearly. "What can I do to help?" She is sure she sounds calm, collected, restrained.

Heather doesn't agree. "First of all stop laughing!" She scolds, it's playful though and Naya rises her eyebrows in shock.

"I'm not laughing." She insists.

Heather makes a small noise in the back of her throat. "I can hear it in your tone." She taps the door with what sounds like the back of her knuckle. "Pull the door, I'll push. Go! Now. Real fast."

Stirring into action Naya reaches for the top of the stall door, her heels give her just enough height to reach it and with a firm grip she pulls, it's awkward. She doesn't have enough leverage to properly pull the door open so she switches tactics.

"I'm grabbing the bottom of the door." She informs Heather. She kneels carefully on the tiled floor, her dress protests tightly, and her bag slips off her shoulder but the position is better. "On three push." Naya says, she grips the bottom of the stall door and braces herself.

"I've been pushing this whole time." Heather grunts.

Naya is about to start pulling when she hears footsteps. In an instant she is standing.

"Some one's coming." She whispers against the stall door in alarm.

Heather stops pushing. "What?" She hiccups. Her voice is small, strained from the effort of trying to free herself, and surprisingly soft.

Naya's stomach flutters at the gentle tone and her head, concussed as it is, spins. "Some one is coming." She repeats.

"Shit, Naya!" Heather whines.

"Play it cool." Is the only thing Naya manages to say. Out of everything she could have said to reassure Heather, _that_ is what comes out.

Heather's equally as bemused. "Really?" She deadpans from inside her cubicle jail.

Naya cringes, breathes in and then pats the stall door like she would a timid animal, "Play it cool. I'll handle this." Spinning around and executing a lame jog towards the exit, Naya throws her palms against the opening door haphazardly. "Occupied!" She rasps.

The door is pushed on once more and Naya shoves it shut.

"Occupied, Ma'am!" She squeaks out.

Heather laughs.

"Stop!" Naya chides. "This is embarrassing, don't laugh."

" _Ma'am_?" Heather parrots, her laugh is breathy and Naya's own smile grows at the sound.

She wants to open the door and apologise to the woman trying to simply pee, but Heather is trapped, god knows how the girl managed to wedge herself in the cubicle, and Naya kind of really wants to be the person who frees her.

Call it a hero complex.

Actually, Naya's not sure what to call it. But it makes her feel more alive and more energetic then she has in over a year and the feeling isn't one she wants to let go of in a hurry.

Maybe it's the concussion talking.

Maybe it's because hanging out in a bathroom with someone shouldn't be as amusing as it is to Naya, and yet here she is, holding back a laugh and holding _out_ a perfect stranger. Whatever the reason is, Naya holds tight to the memory in making and shoulders the door shut once more.

"Occupied." She says again and then to Heather, "kick the door."

Heather grunts in surprise, clearly amused. "Good idea, but that would be real loud."

Keeping her shoulder firm against the exit, Naya breathes in. "Maybe I should get a nurse or a worker to help?"

There's a moment of silence, a mumble from Heather that sounds a lot like a cuss, and then Heather's shoe collides with the stalls door so forcefully Naya is sure Heather's injured her leg somehow.

The sound is loud although slightly muffled, almost like knocking on a car window, or stamping on carpet and Heather hisses in pain when the door barely shifts. It certainly doesn't swing open like Naya had thought it would. Which is disappointing, but also slightly amusing.

"You alright, chica?" Naya calls. The _chica_ is a slip of her tongue. A reminder of her Glee days and the days before that. She doesn't think she's said it in casual conversation in over a year, probably more. So when it slips out without being filtered she clears her throat instantly.

Heather hisses once more, sucking in air sharply. "Peachy." She breathes.

It's clear she's not so Naya takes a step closer, keeping one hand on the door as a precaution, she swallows. "You hurt yourself, didn't you?" She asks, softly. With amusement but concern.

Heather, concealed in her stall, blows a stream of air out her mouth. "I'm cool." She grunts the words and Naya can't help but think she's gritting her teeth.

"Was it your knee?" Naya ventures. She's still pushed solidly up against the door, however she's certain the woman has given up now, so with caution and no doubt a dramatic flourish she rolls her body so her back is resting against the closed door and pushes herself into a walk.

Heather sniffs, clearly annoyed with her situation. "You called it." She answers.

Smiling at the agitation in Heather's tone, Naya reaches the stall and rests her palms on the surface. For a moment it's quiet between them that is until Naya hears Heather slide down the wall of the cubicle to a seated position.

"Is it that bad?" Naya's jaw clenches at the thought of Heather unable to stand and she presses her palms firmer against the door.

Heather grunts a laugh. "I'm sweet."

"Not what I asked." Naya persists.

There's a thump, muffled and soft, almost as though Heather lets her head fall back to the cubicles wall and then she breathes out a stream of air.

"I'm an idiot. I totally ruined the party for you." Heather's words hold a heavy tone and it sits uncomfortably with Naya. "I mean I gave you a concussion!" She adds. Almost it seems as a shocking afterthought.

"No." Naya says, loud enough to sound sharp, although still soft enough to be a whisper. "No, you didn't Heather. Blame the wall I smashed into not yourself."

"You're spending New Years in a hospital, Naya." Heather states, adding quickly; "Because of me."

"Again." Naya stresses. "I'm blaming the wall." It's an automatic response to soothe Heather's concern and a response that has Naya kneeling upon the floor, her dress is tight and her bare knees dig into the tiles, but it's strangely refreshing. From the gap under the stalls door she sees Heather's shoe and without hesitating she reaches for Heather's ankle, with a squeeze she continues. "Blame the wall, Heather."

She puts on a dramatic voice. One she hopes will make Heather laugh and she's rewarded when the woman breathes out a chuckle.

Naya continues, still squeezing Heather's ankle. "Listen, tonight has been... _weird_." She laughs around the word and Heather responds with a laugh of her own. "And I mean weird in a good way. Running into you at the party was probably the best thing to happen to me all year."

"You're completely lying." Heather mumbles, half chuckling.

Naya pulls Heather's ankle, making her shoe slip and quieting Heather. "Strangely, I'm not. Put it this way, I thought my night would end after a load of wine and vodka tonics and possibly a twisted ankle –"

"'Cause of the shoes."

"Yeah, because of the shoes, Heather." Naya breathes a laugh. "I thought I'd go back to my hotel room. Be pampered and fussed over by security –"

This time Heather breathes a laugh. "Up yourself much?"

"It happens." Naya tries to defend. She honestly hates the hype of security, big burly men fending off paparazzi, looking incredibly flashy in their suits and yet holding the personality of a cardboard box. Naya's tried, hell knows she's tried to hold a conversation with a few of them, only to receive grunts or mumbles or worse shocked stares that turn awkward. Those are cringe worthy.

Heather moves her shoe and Naya's grip falters, so she settles for changing her position and sitting with her back against the stalls door, with her legs stretched out Naya continues to talk.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that tonight has been fun."

" _Fun_?" Heather asks. The shock is clear in her voice. "That concussion really scrambled your brain, huh?"

"Yes, _fun_. I've missed hanging out with you." Naya explains. She talks quietly, keeps her head down so she can focus on her legs and not the spinning room and Heather responds just as softly.

"You could have called any time, Naya."

Heather's words aren't accusing by any means, however Naya feels guilty from how true the statement is. Because she _could_ have called any time. But she _didn't_. That's on Naya.

"I mean you might have ended up in a hospitals lavatory with a concussion sooner if you had." Heather jokes.

"You make an appealing offer. You know that right?" Naya's words drip in sarcasm and Heather's lets a low chuckle out, amused.

"Give me your phone." She prompts Naya, her hand appears under the stalls door and she wiggles her fingers.

Confused, Naya swallows. "What for?"

"I'm putting my number in your contacts so you have no excuse not to call me." With another chuckle that suggests Heather's not to beat up about Naya's cold shouldering over the year, Heather wiggles her fingers again.

Digging through her purse Naya retrieves her phone, before placing it in Heather's palm. "Your numbers in there already." She informs.

Heather uh-hums in acknowledgement. However she still takes Naya's phone. Naya hears the screen being swiped unlocked and then Heather chuckles to herself. "Got any nude pictures in here I might find?" She's joking, although it makes Naya think about every photo she's ever taken on her phone in a split second. She's sure she lost a shade of colour from her face.

Recovering, she clears her throat. "That's your thing remember?"

"Vividly." Heather tells. "At least the good ones were leaked and not my duck face ones."

"You do duck face?" Naya feels a bubble of laughter rise in her chest and her cheeks flush with humour.

There's a second of silence before a clear click fills the bathroom and a flash. Immediately after Heather is sliding Naya's phone back under the door. The screen is bright and on it is a photo of Heather doing her best duck face pose. Her lips are pouted, cheeks drawn in, and for good measure she's throwing a sarcastic peace sign that covers part of her face and eyes.

Naya's laughter is unrestrained, it feels like it literally bursts from her body, and the repercussion of that is a snort. She covers her mouth to stifle it and picks her phone up with her free hand, staring at the photo.

"That's hideous." She manages to say.

Heather, clearly enjoying Naya's laughter, chuckles around her following words. "That's why I count my stars my nudes were leaked and not my duck face pictures."

"Positive thinker. I like that in a person." Naya's chuckles keep coming and she swipes the picture away with a shake of her head.

It's a strange feeling sitting in a public rest room, with a concussion, with Heather trapped and Naya's body shaking with laughter. It's strange and exciting and so crazy that Naya is sure Heather is the only person to make her feel so much, so fast, and all at once.

Because Naya is simultaneously warm with laughter, cold from the floor, uncomfortable from her spinning head and yet immensely comfortable sitting with Heather.

She's nervy from Heather's presence, filled with adrenaline from simply talking to her, _laughing_ with her. Falling down a fucking flight of stairs with the girl! She wants to stay separated by the stalls door, while also wanting to open said door. She wants to reach again for Heather's ankle, wants to make Heather laugh, wants to have Heather make her laugh with more stupid photos.

Actually Naya doesn't know what she's feeling.

Which is usually how it goes when she and Heather are in the same room as each other.

Somehow Heather has always been able to see passed Naya's fronts. See passed the glamours shoes or expensive watch, or the tight dress that cost more then it should have in Naya's opinion. And although that thought scares Naya crazy, the thought that Heather can just walk into her life and undo Naya's knots and cut her strings, pull away the mask so all that is left is _Naya_. Not her media personality. Not anything but her true self. It also reassures her.

It makes her smile.

Heather's laughter dies down first and Naya, still staring at her phone, breathes in. Her stomach aches from having the giggles in the most welcoming way and her face is flushed. Her screen dies just as the clock changes to 12:00am and Naya rests her head back.

"Happy New Year, Heather." She whispers.

Heather sniffs in amusement. "And what a way to ring it in."

"You sure know how to celebrate." Naya deadpans with mirth.

"Oh, you know it!" Heather practically singsongs, before adding. "You going to get me out of here, Miss Rivera. Or do I have to body slam the door down."

Naya pretends to think despite Heather not actually being able to see the action and then she hums decidedly. "Gonna have to body slam the door, Sweetheart."

Taken aback and entertained by Naya's comment, Heather clucks her tongue. "Bitch."

Naya's face lights up with another smile. "I'd pay good money to see you bust out of the cubicle."

"Stand back and I will. I've had practise, remember?" Despite Heather's words she doesn't stand or move into action, so Naya stays seated and simply hums in thought.

"Set trailers don't count." She says.

Heather bumps the stalls door and scoffs. "If my knee wasn't busted up I'd be out of here by now."

"Keep telling yourself that, chica."

With a little laugh, Heather breathes out. "Idiot."

"Nerd."

"Dork."

"You love it."

"Mmmh."


End file.
